


Quiet Moments With You

by StarlightBreeze557



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Clary is a nice thing, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Insecurities, Isabelle Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Light Angst, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Submission, Self-Esteem Issues, Service Submission, True Love, bad day fic, my first time writing this, no beta we die like men, well kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightBreeze557/pseuds/StarlightBreeze557
Summary: After a bad day at work, Clary takes Isabelle home and makes her feel better in a way that only she can.Or, non-sexual submission (service submission) and a lot of feels.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Quiet Moments With You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I've been wanting to write non-sexual D/s for a really long time, but only recently did I get the courage to actually do that. This is my very first time writing this and also my first time writing Clizzy, so I can't promise anything about quality. I don't really have any idea what I'm doing; I just kind of went with what felt right to me. (Fun fact: I don't even ship Clizzy - like, as in, I don't even read fanfiction over it kind of 'don't ship' - but they just felt right for this fic.) I really hope that you like it! <3
> 
> Kudos make my day and comments validate my existence, so please feel free to leave those, if you want :) I hope you have a wonderful day/night! 
> 
> ~ Em

It was a few hours away from closing time when Clary noticed it. The frown lines on her face, the way her makeup was smeared and she hadn’t noticed, the pinched, tight expression she wore, and the way her lips were pressed into a thin line - it all gave away Isabelle’s stress. 

Clary smiled sadly and did her best to take as much off of Izzy’s shoulders as she could while they worked. She hated that Izzy felt overwhelmed and upset in the first place, but Clary would never tire of taking care of her girlfriend and doing her best to help her when she needed it. 

The last customer shuffled out around five, and Clary closed the door to the bakery gratefully. Usually, she loved working there; the sounds of people chattering and the pleasant smells that wafted in from the kitchen all comforted her and made her feel safe. But now, she just wanted to get home. Take Izzy home. She knew what she needed, and she could feel her girlfriend’s exhaustion from all the way across the bakery. 

By the time they made it back to their apartment, Clary could tell that Izzy was beyond ready to go under. _Good_ , she thought to herself, a little selfishly. It was usually a bit difficult to get Izzy to a point where she felt like she could ask for this. Clary couldn’t exactly suggest it herself. Isabelle was a stubborn, prideful girl, and Clary knew better than to insinuate that she _needed_ what they were about to do, even though they both knew that she did. Izzy hated to feel vulnerable, hated to _need_ anything. It was up to Clary to make her feel safe enough to ask. 

Clary unlocked the door and slipped inside, waiting for Isabelle to join her. She made her way to the couch and sat with her feet flat on the floor. She still wasn’t entirely sure she was good at this, even after months of practice, but then again, it wasn’t about her, was it? This was about Isabelle. And as long as it benefited her, that was really all that mattered. 

Isabelle shuffled in a few moments later, standing awkwardly in front of Clary. Normally, she’d sit down next to her and curl into her side, but Clary knew that wasn’t what either of them wanted right now. Isabelle lifted her eyes to Clary’s, a silent question in them. 

“Is there something you want to ask me?” Clary said lightly. She smiled encouragingly at Isabelle.

“Can you, can you put me under?” Izzy’s voice was soft and hesitant, but it was there, and Clary couldn’t have been prouder. 

“Of course, angel.”

Clary snapped once, completely changing the atmosphere of the room and drawing Izzy’s attention to her. She gestured at the ground and said, “Kneel.”

Izzy’s response was immediate. Clary watched, a smile playing at the corners of her lips, as her girlfriend hit the floor with a thump, her hands resting on her thighs in their pre-discussed position. Clary lifted Izzy’s chin with strong, sure fingers and met her girlfriend’s dark brown eyes with her own forest greens. 

“Good girl,” she praised.

Izzy shuddered at the compliment, a little sigh escaping her. Clary watched closely. Usually, Izzy would make a sound, or shake her head, something to say she disagreed with what Clary had just said. Tonight, she remained silent, drinking in her girlfriend’s praise. 

Clary let a little sigh escape her. This was good, this was _progress_.

“You’re doing wonderfully, Isabelle,” Clary said, her hand still gripping Izzy’s chin. “I’m so proud of you.”

Izzy’s eyes filled with tears at that, but Clary shushed her, wiping them away with the pad of her thumb. 

“Listen to me,” Clary said, and Isabelle’s eyes were on her again in an instant; dutiful, obedient, waiting for her command. 

“Go get the brush from our bathroom,” Clary ordered, “and bring it back here to me.”

Izzy stood and went to the bathroom, rummaging through their drawers until she found the brush. It was a simple one, not anything like the brush Clary actually used on her hair. It was grey and flat and the handle had grooves on it, making it easier for Izzy to hold. It was a special brush, only used for nights like this. 

When Isabelle returned, Clary was waiting for her with an outstretched hand. Izzy placed the brush in her hand and resumed her position at Clary’s feet. 

“Good girl,” Clary praised. “Good job.” Her hand went to Izzy’s hair, playing with the brown strands for a few moments before she turned, handing the brush back to Izzy. “Hold this.”

Clary turned around on the couch, crossing her legs and facing the opposite direction as Izzy. She gestured to her hair and said, “Brush my hair. I want you to make sure you get all of the tangles out.”

She felt more than heard Izzy rise to her knees and begin to brush her hair, and it made Clary smile. This, she knew, was exactly what Izzy needed tonight. 

After a few minutes of silence other than Izzy’s brushing, Clary murmured: “That’s a good girl, Isabelle. You’re doing so good. You’re taking such good care of me.”

There was no pause in Izzy’s movements, but Clary heard her suck in a sharp breath and shift on her knees. The message had reached her. 

Clary wanted to reach back and soothe her fingers down Izzy’s spine, take away all of the tension and stress that she held in the high set of her shoulders, but she knew it wouldn’t be accepted. That wasn’t what Izzy needed right now. 

Izzy needed to feel like she was doing something right, like she was good and she was worth it and she was here for a reason. Clary knew all of that, and she wished that Izzy could, but life just didn’t work like that sometimes. Sometimes Izzy struggled to feel like she was good enough, and if Clary let her go on thinking like that for too long, it would eat her up. She’d been with her girlfriend through all of the ups and downs, and they’d both learned from them. This, _this_ was what would keep Izzy’s thoughts at bay. It gave her something to focus on, a simple task she couldn’t fail at, something that would keep her head above water until she could deal with it herself. 

Clary closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink into the feeling of Izzy brushing her hair, untangling the knots that had built up over the long day at the bakery. She could hear and feel Izzy behind her, and she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she was sinking into the role, her drags becoming heavier and her pulls more sure. That was a good sign. It meant she was growing more relaxed, slipping deeper into the mindset she needed to be in for tonight. 

In a few minutes, Clary’s hair was brushed perfectly, and she turned around, taking the brush from Isabelle with a smile. “Good job,” she told her girlfriend. “That was perfect. You took such good care of me.”

Izzy made a pleased sound in the back of her throat, and Clary took note of it. Sometimes, Izzy would talk. On those nights, she called her ma’am and her voice took on a soft, quiet tone that it never did otherwise. But on other nights, Izzy was semi-verbal at best, giving Clary half-answers and responding with a hum or a little sound to Clary’s words. She didn’t mind, of course; Clary herself had a tendency to go non-verbal when things got to be a little too much. Sometimes silence was what they both needed. But her actions and decisions regarding the rest of the night would be affected by how verbal Izzy was feeling, so Clary made a mental note to adjust her plans if necessary. 

“Listen to me,” Clary said, and Izzy’s head snapped up at the words. Clary took a moment to appreciate the easy trust that her girlfriend gave her, the way that she trusted Clary so much that she was able to give up a bit of her precious control and allow someone else to be in charge for once. It was nothing short of beautiful, and Clary knew she was lucky to be the person that was allowed to see Izzy like this. 

Clary cleared her throat and said, “Take the brush back to the bathroom and put it away. Grab the nail kit, and then bring it back to me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Clary startled a little. Apparently she’d been wrong about Izzy’s speech habits tonight. It seemed like she was building up to it, in fact, rather than forgoing it entirely. She smiled to herself and adjusted her mental notes once more. 

Clary watched as Izzy rose to her feet and hurried towards the bathroom, the brush clutched tightly in her hands. She smiled a little. Even though it was always a coping mechanism, not something Izzy really wanted for herself, she loved seeing her girlfriend like this. So open, so welcoming, so, so... _free_. It was a look she rarely got to see on Isabelle before they’d started this. 

Izzy came back a few seconds later with the nail kit, returning to her previous position without being prompted. Clary carded soothing fingers through her hair, praising her for a job well done. Izzy preened at the compliments, absorbing them in a way she only ever really could when they were like this. 

Clary uncrossed her legs and settled her feet in Isabelle’s lap; a familiar routine. She gestured to her toes and said, “Paint them for me.” Isabelle got to work immediately, brushing the polish over Clary’s toes with practiced expertise. Clary had to bite back a smile as she watched Izzy work. They had only been a few weeks into their relationship when Clary first discovered that Izzy could paint nails, and quite wonderfully, too. Ever since they’d started this, it was Izzy’s favourite task. 

A smile tugged at Clary’s lips when she saw the forest green sparkling on her toes. This was about Izzy, not her, but she could still appreciate how wonderful the polish looked, and how pretty it made her feel. 

Suddenly, Clary heard a small whimper and looked down to see that Izzy had accidentally spilled a bit of the nail polish onto the carpet - or, more specifically, the rug that Clary was always boasting about when they had company over. It was her favourite rug, and Izzy knew it. _Oh, no_. Clary reached for her, but Izzy was already moving away, her brown eyes blown wide and filled with tears. 

“It’s alright,” Clary tried to reassure her. “It’s okay - ”

Izzy shook her head violently, gripping the nail polish bottle so hard that Clary feared it might shatter. “No, no, I, no - ” Izzy’s voice was desperate and laden with guilt, and Clary took a deep breath. She felt like she might be sick. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. 

Izzy backed even further away, fumbling with the nail kit and reaching for the acetone with shaking fingers. Clary recognised it for what it was; she was scrambling to fix her mistake. Izzy was crying now, tears sliding down her cheeks as her chest heaved. Clary worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She knew what she had to do, but she hated it more than words could say. 

“Isabelle,” Clary said sharply, a command in her voice. “Come here.”

Clary watched as Izzy stopped moving, staring at her with wide eyes. She sniffled, the tears slowing coming to a stop. 

“You heard me,” Clary said. “Come here.”

Izzy crawled back over to Clary and assumed her position on her knees, her gaze locked on the floor instead of Clary’s eyes. Clary grabbed her chin and forced it upwards, making eye contact with her girlfriend. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

Izzy opened her mouth to protest, her hands clenching into fists on her lap, but Clary cut her off before she could. “Tell me what you are feeling right now, Isabelle.”

“B-Bad,” Izzy choked out. “S-Stupid. Not good enough. F-Failure.”

Clary exhaled softly, fighting against the tears that threatened at her girlfriend’s words. She wished to all of the angels and gods above that Izzy didn’t believe what she was saying, but she knew that she did. She took a deep breath and forced herself to say, “Good girl. Good job, telling me. I’m proud of you.”

Izzy broke down in tears at that. “Y-You’re not - you shouldn’t - ” She fisted her hands in the fabric of her jeans and hung her head. She looked so much like a kicked puppy in that moment that Clary wanted to cry. 

“I should,” Clary countered, grabbing Izzy’s chin once more. “I have everything in the world to be proud of right now. I have a beautiful, wonderful, good girl in my home right now that I am extremely lucky to have at my feet.” Izzy began to cry harder. “Do you understand me, Isabelle? You are _good_. I promise that you are very good and I am so proud of you.”

It took a few seconds, and she was still crying, but Izzy nodded. Clary exhaled with relief. It was a start. It wasn’t quite something, but it wasn’t nothing.

“Get the acetone,” Clary ordered, releasing Izzy’s chin and gesturing at the nail kit beside her. “Clean it up.” She took care to avoid referring to the spill as Izzy’s mistake, lest she feel like she’d failed in some major way again. While Izzy dug around in the kit, Clary took a deep, shaky breath. This had never happened before and, with any luck, it would never happen again. 

When Izzy was finished scrubbing at the nail polish on the rug, Clary brought her attention back to her once more. “Good girl,” she said, putting her feet in Isabelle’s lap again. “Finish my toenails.”

Izzy put the acetone away and got the nail polish back out, gripping it with shaking fingers. Clary wanted to reach out and steady Isabelle’s hand, but she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she waited patiently for Izzy to twist the cap and begin painting Clary’s toes once more. 

By the time she was finished, Izzy’s tears had disappeared and she had relaxed into her stance. She wasn’t completely back to normal, but Clary could tell the worst of their hiccup had passed. Clary smiled, her fingers twitching where they rested against her thigh in anticipation of her next command. “Good girl,” she told Isabelle. “Those look perfect.”

Izzy preened at the praise, and Clary ran her fingers through her hair gently. “Now my fingernails,” Clary instructed her, spreading her hands out on her thighs for easier access. Izzy rose up on her knees and began to paint Clary’s nails, a little smile playing at the corners of her lips. 

Clary watched in awe as each nail was painted forest green with such care and diligence that it made her feel like she might never stop smiling. With her red hair, she knew the colour was perfect, and she was more than a little happy that she would get to wear it for a few days. 

When Izzy was finished, Clary praised her again for a job well done and then said, “Return the nail kit to the bathroom and get me a glass of water from the kitchen. Lots of ice.”

Isabelle stood and returned the kit to the bathroom, stopping in the kitchen to grab Clary’s water. Clary smiled when she heard the sound of the ice cube trays being emptied. Izzy had obviously made the correct assumption that what was left wasn’t enough to fulfill Clary’s “lots of ice” command. 

Izzy returned with Clary’s glass a couple minutes later, holding it carefully between two long nails. It was filled to the brim with ice and extremely cold, just the way Clary liked it. “Good job,” Clary said. “This is exactly what I wanted.” Izzy smiled in a relieved sort of way, and more of the tension in her shoulders was released. 

“There’s massage oil in the third cabinet above the sink in the bathroom,” Clary said. “Go get that oil and bring it back here to me.”

Izzy was on her feet in a second, headed for the bathroom and the massage oil. Clary sipped the water from her glass and smiled. This was something relatively new - Izzy still wasn’t confident in her ability as a masseuse - but Clary felt like tonight called for it. 

When she returned, it was with the massage oil and a smile, so Clary knew she’d made the right choice. “Perfect,” she complimented her girlfriend. “Good girl.” She unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off, taking care to tug her t-shirt down below her waist so Isabelle wouldn’t mistake the action as anything sexual. “Massage my legs for me, angel.”

Izzy uncapped the massage oil and poured a liberal amount into her hand, warming it up, before reaching forward and grasping Clary’s calf. She began to spread the massage oil onto Clary’s skin, and Clary let her eyes flutter closed. She had _no idea_ why Izzy was still a little hesitant in this area. God, she was a natural. The massage oil was wild orchid-scented, and Clary could tell Izzy liked the smell of it just as much as she did.

Clary couldn’t contain the smile that bloomed on her lips as she watched Izzy work, relaxing into the massage and occasionally muttering warm words of praise to her girlfriend. Izzy had come a long way since they’d first started dating. She trusted so much, trusted _Clary_ so much, and it made Clary want to cry with how perfect that was in and of itself. She was so proud of her, of how brave Izzy was being and how good she always was, letting go of her control like this. 

She was stubborn, and she was difficult sometimes, but Clary couldn’t have asked for a better girlfriend, a better sub, a better _person_. Isabelle was all she wanted, all she would ever want, and as she rubbed the massage oil into Clary’s shins, Clary was overwhelmed with just how much she loved the woman at her feet. 

Despite what Isabelle thought, despite how society viewed them, despite _everything_ , Clary couldn’t ask for anything better than this. 


End file.
